


Good Sex - Julian's Revenge

by Allerleirauh



Series: Good Sex [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mind Games, Plot What Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allerleirauh/pseuds/Allerleirauh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian told him that he wouldn't see it coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Sex - Julian's Revenge

It's the first entry, the first thrust in, that I love the most. It's the moment when your cock breaches my body that I want to memorise forever. It's what I crave again and again.

Today we had dinner in Quarks and I watched you read my 'story'. I saw the look of lust when you finally looked up at me. It caused my stomach to lurch. It made me want to drop at your feet and beg you to take me right then and there.

Of course, I didn't. No, I'm a Starfleet officer after all. Instead I only gave you one look. Picking up my spoon, I carefully licked the last remnants of I'danian spice pudding off it. I dared you to follow me to my quarters and I told you to hurry.

Then, I ran.

 

And I'm still running, rushing through our station's corridors, only one destination and one goal in my mind.

I barely pause long enough for the doors of my quarters to open in front of me. Instead I slither through them the moment the gap between them is wide enough. Slapping the door mechanism to close behind me and calling out for 'Lights, twenty percent, raise temperature levels, five degrees' is something I do without wasting any conscious thought on it.

For a second I stop, considering the options my softly illuminated quarters present. The couch, the bed, or maybe the floor? The last one I reject immediately - far too uncomfortable for what I hope the night will bring. That leaves the couch or the bed. Call me lazy - and you have on more than one occasion - but while the couch offers some rather inspiring possibilities for a more athletic variety of sex, the bed is really more appropriate at this late time of night _and_ considering the opulent dinner we just had.

I start undressing, flinging my clothes to the floor, carelessly but with intent, creating a trail for you to follow as I move to my bedroom. Grabbing my bed's covers, I push them over the side. These won't be needed. I settle down on the mattress and for a couple of heartbeats I pause. I take a slow breath, just one, before I allow my own anticipation and excitement to rush me onwards again.

The chronometer tells me that I don't have much time before you'll arrive. I twist around, pull open my nightstand's drawer, and fish out the lube.

My next task is always a little awkward and at the same time such a huge turn-on. Uncapping the bottle, I squirt a generous amount of the liquid on my fingers. It's my favourite brand - the one that remains creamy and rather viscous while it's still on my fingers. It's good for avoiding too much of a mess and once applied it heats up so nicely, turning more liquid and producing such a smooth and silky glide.

Turning on my side I arch my back and push a lubed finger up my ass. One finger is soon replaced by two, and in my haste and excitement a lot of the lube doesn't end up where it should. I have to get more from the bottle twice. Oh, well, I'm reasonably sure that you won't mind the mess I'm inadvertently making.

I roughly fingerfuck myself. The preparation isn't meant to be more than perfunctory. Two fingers can't provide enough of a stretch, but that's exactly the way I want it. A last push as deep as I can manage and I'm all set - lubed and ready and so aroused I feel light-headed.

As if you knew the perfect moment for your arrival, I hear the doors to my quarters hiss open then closed. The sounds are not immediately followed by your footsteps, and I imagine you standing just inside my quarters. You're noticing the dimmed illumination, and the raised temperature, and my strewn clothes aren't hard to miss either.

It's my signal for the finishing touch. This is something I've never done before and I'm not entirely sure how you will react. Of course that only heightens the thrill. I get on my knees, keeping my head down on the pillow. I won't use my hands to balance myself. Instead I place them on my ass-cheeks, pulling them apart. The position is somewhat precarious, but just imagining how I must look now makes my arousal spike. It must be a picture of utter wantonness, a flagrant display for your pleasure, and an irresistible offering for you to claim and to possess.

I hear your footsteps now and for a split second I'm disappointed that there's no mirror around. I would have liked to see myself like that. Come to think of it, I would have liked to see your face now, too. But with my back to the door that's an impossibility. At least this time, I add to myself, and the future opportunities that play across my mind make me grin into the pillow.

Your footsteps reach the door between the main room and the bedroom, and there they abruptly stop. Your only audible reaction is a soft hiss. I wonder about it. Have I gone too far? Are you repulsed by my blatancy or is it a sound of pleasure? I imagine your eyes as they take in the scene in front of you. I can practically feel them travelling over my body.

For a second I picture you, rushing up to me, taking me, just like that. You wouldn't waste time with any preliminaries. Maybe you wouldn't even bother to take your clothes off? And what a delightful picture _that_ idea creates in my mind. But no, that's definitely not your style, and so I wait.

The silence seems to stretch into eternity, and I'm almost ready to let go and turn. But you must've seen my intent, most likely in a slight tensing of muscles I'm not even aware of.

"Don't move."

The command is like a purr, and it goes straight to my cock that's already hard and leaking and now seems to throb with every fast beat of my heart. I bite my lips, because otherwise I would start whimpering now or pleading or possibly both, and it's far too early for that.

I can hear more footsteps, and then your shoes hit the floor as you get rid of them, tossing them to the side. The sound is followed by the soft rustle of clothes, and now my imagination comes to life in full colour. It shows me what my eyes can't see - how you slowly undress. You're not folding your clothes. I can hear them landing on the floor. For you it's an unusual show of impatience. The knowledge that I - and my little show of debauchery - brought it on is a powerful aphrodisiac in itself.

The mattress dips slightly before a very faint breeze of air warns me of your next move. But when your tongue slides over my slightly gaping asshole, I almost lose it. I have to tighten the grip of my hands on my ass to prevent myself from letting go.

Something seems to have startled you, however. You've pulled back, and for a moment I wonder about the reason. Then it hits me - the lube, of course. How sloppy of you to have overlooked it. Its taste has never been something you relish. I know exactly what kind of grimace you're making right now. I have seen it occasionally and the memory makes me chuckle. It doesn't last long though as a questing finger glides over my asshole, then pushes deep inside.

My breath hitches. Now, if you would only get the idea and simply take what is offered. I can't tell you. It's not my place to tell, but I can wish for it. Your finger vanishes, and I can feel you shift behind me. The moment stretches. I feel like a sprinter, crouched and waiting for the starter's gun to fire. Impatient and desperate to be let loose. Your hands wander over my back, taking hold of my hips and, yes, this is exactly how it's supposed to be.

The thrust is too fast, and too hard, and it sends me rocking forward. It burns and there's such a shocking contrast between anticipating the intrusion and being stretched and stuffed to the limit and slightly beyond. It's that 'slightly beyond' that makes all the difference, that makes it perfect, and that makes me whimper now shamelessly.

The grip of your hands is fierce now. You're buried inside me to the hilt, and you force me to stay motionless. This behaviour, I know well. It's something you always do. It's like you want to make your presence known, as if there was any doubt about your claim. I've teased you about it occasionally. Sometimes you've reacted with feigned ignorance, and sometimes you've just dragged me to your quarters and fucked me hard and fast - as if you wanted to say 'Of course, now shut up and bend over'.

Maybe you sense that my mind starts to drift, because your hands leave my hips moving over my chest. You pull me back, pull me in your lap. It forces me to let go of my ass-cheeks and it drives you just a little bit deeper inside me. I can't help the squirming it elicits from me. I don't want to either, and we both groan at the sensation.

I know you well. This position you've chosen gives away a lot of what you plan for the rest of the night. You want to take your time. Otherwise you just would have fucked me once you've had pushed inside. You would've aimed for fast completion for both of us.

That's not what's going to happen tonight. You're in a mood to play, and, oh, how I love this game of yours. How much I enjoy letting myself be played by you like a virtuoso plays an instrument.

Your hands wander over my chest, tugging at my nipples, while your mouth moves over my neck. Soft kisses and sharp bites make my skin tingle. Every once in a while, though far too rarely, your hands stray to my cock and balls, teasing and tormenting me.

You still don't allow me to move. I hate that and I love it at the same time. Right now I want nothing more than to raise myself up and down on your cock. I want to feel you move inside me, the smooth glide and the sweet friction. It would be a perfect pleasure. The enforced stillness is anything but. So I rely on my favourite trick. I turn to my memories - those carefully preserved memories of earlier encounters between us that hold the highest thrill.

It's the combination that does it for me. Your hands and mouth on my body, stringing me slowly higher and higher, and the images that fill my mind. My homecoming after an exceptionally boring conference on Vulcan. You caught me the instant I was through the door of my quarters. I'd never before believed that 'up against the wall' could be _that_ hot. The time when you conveniently forgot my birthday. You proceeded to make it up to me by first treating me to a marvellous dinner in your quarters, and then bent me over the table and fucked me senseless.

I wonder if you're aware of what I'm doing - most probably not. I can't imagine how you'd react if you knew. Maybe one day I'll tell you. For now I simply revel in it.

Your caresses turn sharper now, more demanding. I allow myself to let go, and I let myself fall, knowing you will catch me. Turning away from the images flitting through my mind, I let myself focus only on the physical. My body sings under your touch. I arch my back as far as possible with you behind me. You know what it means, and your response follows instantly.

You grip my right hand where it's resting on my thigh, and wrap it around my cock. You guide my hand's movements until we've established a steady stroking rhythm, not too fast and not too slow. Your hands return to my hips and finally, finally, you push me up. It's a slow glide, not nearly enough. You pause with just the crown of your cock inside me. You make me wait, and I groan. My hand around my cock speeds up. I close my eyes, feeling like a bowstring pulled tight and being pulled ever tighter with every passing second.

At last you pull me down again, hard. It leaves me breathless and dizzy. I know it won't take more than a handful of these movements to push me over the edge. Your thrusts send liquid fire down my spine. It's so good I want to scream, but _that_ I won't do. Instead I start making those soft keening noises. I know how much you love to hear them. They are the tell-tale sign of my surrender. You've unravelled me completely now, leaving me helpless in my desire.

You pull me down hard one last time, and finally I'm coming. My semen spurts between my fingers. One of your hands lets go of my hip, and you bring it around to join my own. It moves over the crown of my cock, spreading the fluid there. Your hand comes away, only to shift to my mouth, and my lips open eagerly, welcoming your fingers inside. I suck and lick, tasting myself, and you hiss in satisfaction.

I turn my head, offering you my mouth and you lay claim to it. Our kiss is languid and lazy. Your tongue pushes between my lips, pushes inside my mouth, and it tastes of chocolate and Kanar - a heady mix, one I've always loved. I must taste of I'danian spice pudding, of course, mixed with my own semen, and the taste seems to agree with you. You suck on my tongue as if you can't get enough of it.

I'd like this to go on forever. Feeling sated now, I'm resting in your arms. Everything is slightly hazy and tranquil for a moment. It cannot last, though.

Once again you push me up until your still hard cock slips out of my ass. I groan at the loss, though I understand it's only temporary. I know what you want and what you expect. I move forward and turn. I settle on my back and wait for you to follow and move on top of me.

Your weight is a comfort when you do. I'm feeling loose and relaxed and slightly drowsy. Maybe I'm not up for another round? But of course that's not really my decision and you have other plans, I know. Seeking out my mouth again you reclaim it and your kiss turns fierce now. Your hand wanders to my cock, which is still slightly sensitive, but your touches are feathery-light - you know exactly how to do this. Sometimes it irritates me how easy it is for you to coax any reaction you want out of me. But those are day-time thoughts - rational thoughts that don't hold much importance in our bed.

I'm already half-hard when you finally thrust inside me again. The glide is soft as silk now, and your eyes turn to slits as your face shows your pleasure. You start at a leisurely pace, but soon it isn't enough and, hitching my legs over your shoulders, you bend me to your will until your thrusts are once again hard and heavy and deep.

A slight change in your angle and you're hitting my prostrate every time now. I grab my cock, resuming the stroking. Our gazes lock, and now it's a joint rush towards orgasm. It's brilliant, and intense, and almost too much. Only it isn't. It's that 'slightly beyond' that I always crave, that makes everything more real.

I close my eyes when orgasm hits again. By your last hard thrust I know that you're not far behind me. It's bliss. It's perfect, and if there was ever a contest I'd say that our harsh breathing afterwards is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

 

The PADD clatters on the table's surface as Elim let's it slip from his hand.

"I told you, you won't see it coming," Julian tells him with a smug smile. He set up this dinner at Quark's very carefully, and the amount of time he'd invested in writing his 'story' for Elim to read had been almost preposterously long.

Earlier they had sat down at one of the more secluded tables in Quark's bar, one of those that offer at least a minimal amount of privacy. The dinner had gone smoothly, and as they were slowly finishing their dessert, he had pushed a PADD across the table towards his lover. Elim had given him a curious look, and Julian told him to 'go ahead and read it. I'm sure you'll find it entertaining.'

By the look his lover gives him now, all his preparations have paid off beautifully. Opposite from him sits the very epitome of Cardassian arousal and all Julian has to do is get back to his quarters, allow his lover to follow, and let that arousal be unleashed.

For a moment he considers making Elim wait. His lover is very near his breaking point. Until today Julian has never dared to push him beyond. It's tempting, but he's not sure if he'd be up for the task of dealing with all the possible consequences. No, not this time, he decides.

Slowly he picks up his spoon, licking at the last remnants of his I'danian spice pudding that cling to it. He leans forward, pressing a button on the PADD, changing its display to a countdown.

"My quarters," he says.

"Fifteen minutes." He points at the time running on the PADD.

"Follow me if you dare."

With that said, he gets up from the table, and walks away towards the nearest turbolift. He's not even halfway there when he isn't able to hold back any longer, and he breaks into a run.

END

 


End file.
